


It Was Always His Race

by SilverBull333



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: First F1 Fic, M/M, pls don't judge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 16:36:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9770630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverBull333/pseuds/SilverBull333
Summary: It should be the happiest day of Nico's life, so why does he feel so upset?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is my first fanfic on here. I initially posted it on fanfiction.net but that has way less of an F1 fanbase. Please comment and kudo if you enjoy!

Nico stares up at the garage’s timing screen, a small smile dancing on his lips. Not only is his daughter the first women of the 21st century to race properly in F1, she’s actually out-pacing some of the veteran drivers. After taking over from Toto as team principal of Mercedes, he’d known that he wanted to make history by having the first female grand prix winner on his team. And where else better to look than at home?  
“Someone’s happy, I presume?” says a voice from the corner of the garage. Nico turns slowly, only to find Sebastian Vettel stood leaning against the wall. He’s reminded of the heated discussions that came before Lily signed for Mercedes, when Sebastian had tried to sign her to Vettel. Somehow, Nico had always known that she’d choose Mercedes. She was already too invested from the day she was born to choose otherwise.  
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Nico asks, but they both know the answer to that question. He looks to his side for support, almost back-up, but is filled with grief when the realisation sank in, the same as every day. No-one’s there, and no-one will be.  
“I just thought-”  
“Well, don’t,” Nico snaps back, agitated. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be sat on the pit wall?”  
“Probably,” Seb replies, with a patient shrug. Vettel Racing is his pride and joy, but at this moment, he thought that his friend might just need his comforting.  
There’s a rush of bodies to the front of the garage, and, after automatically assuming the worst, Nico realises that Lily is just pitting. He knows that she can’t see him, but those fleeting glimpses of car number 50 fill him with so much pride that he might burst. At least, it does normally. Today, it just fills him with such hurt that he has to retire to the back of the garage to compose himself.  
________________________________________  
Lily won the race comfortably, a 2-second cushion separating her and her teammate Max Verstappen, who, Nico notes, isn’t as fast as he used to be. Nico’s split – half of him knows that he has to go and see Lily on her maiden podium, and be there to celebrate the Mercedes 1-2, but the other half of him just wants to stay here, slumped at the back of the garage, just like he did 12 years ago.  
________________________________________  
After the presentation ceremony, all of the podium-placed drivers have to do the customary interviews. The crowd roars with delight as Daniel Ricciardo bounds onto the staged area.  
“So, Lily! Fancy seeing you here!” he jokes. “Your first pole! You must be chuffed.”  
“I guess,” Lily replies with a half-hearted smile. “But I did it for my Dad, however many bad memories this circuit holds.”  
“Of course,” Dan smiles gently, “I guarantee he’d proud. I hear there’s a story behind your car number?”  
“Well, kind of,” Lily says, grateful for a swing in conversation, however marginal. “My dad’s cars were 44 and 6, so 50 seemed logical, being the sum of the two.”  
“Thanks, Lils,” Dan concludes, moving to Max. “And what do you think you’re doing here? In a Mercedes kit of all things!” he fake-gasps.  
“Trying to win a race, Dan,” Max fires back, a wry grin on his face. “Y’know, when you cross the line first? Not that you’d be too familiar with that.”  
The crowd laugh at this double act while Dan looks scandalised. “Really?!” he replies, “Then who’s cooking dinner? Because I swear you said you would.”  
“You do realise that I never cook, Dan? Last time I tried, I nearly set our flat on fire. I buy ready meals. And sometimes I forget that I bought them, and get a takeaway,” laughs Max, as realisation dawns on Dan’s face.  
“Oh! That’s why there’s no washing up to do! Clever Maxy! See, I knew there was a reason I kept you around!” Dan exclaims, giving the smaller man a kiss on the cheek, as Max goes bright red.  
“Because I’m your boyfriend, maybe?” Max says, giggling ever so slightly as the crowd roars with delight once again. “And Dan, you do know that there’s someone else on the podium, right?”  
“Oh, yeah, forgot I had to finish these interviews. Your fault for distracting me, gorgeous,” Dan smiles, as he moves on.  
________________________________________  
Nico and Lily walk away from the track hand in hand, but before long, they stop to look at an inscription on the wall.  
“Dedicated to the memory of Lewis Hamilton,” the inscription reads, “A man who lived life in the fast lane, both on track and off.”  
“Vater,” Lily whispers, nestling into Nico’s shoulder in a way she hadn’t for about 10 years, “Do you think that Dad was watching me race today?”  
This catches Nico. “He always is, sweetheart,” he replies, as he feels the tears start to roll down his cheeks. “Lily Rosberg-Hamilton, you’re one special girl, and everyone will always look out for you, no matter what. And if your Dad wasn’t watching, then…” Nico chokes out a sob as he struggles to finish his words of comfort to his 19-year-old daughter as they stand there, tears flooding from their eyes as they remember the one failure that cost Lewis more than just a podium.  
________________________________________  
It was just like any other race, mid-season, the title too far away to be secured, but Lewis was in the lead. As normal, the two silver arrows were under constant pressure to pull away from the field, and wrap up another 1-2 just like the old times. There’d been no sign of any problems with Lewis’ car earlier in the weekend, or all season; in fact, it had been Nico having the reliability issues. But then it all went wrong. Nobody saw it coming, the fireball that erupted from the car as Lewis went to take the corner. It was awful for Nico, being so close, and yet he couldn’t have helped more if he’d been on the other side of the world. The race was red-flagged, and it was evident that there would be no restart. They said afterwards that there’d been some petrol leakage, which had ignited from a small spark from the brakes. But none of that could bring Lewis back, not even the posthumous victory that was awarded Lewis’ way. Nothing could conquer the depression that Nico spiralled into after quitting F1, not even the company of his 7-year-old daughter could break the spell of the grief. And he thought he’d conquered it. He thought that he could work through it after 12 years. He thought that, somehow, the guilt he had felt during the dark days about not having done any more for Lewis may just have gone away. But this day had shown that, just like your loved ones never really leave you, neither do the feelings of guilt and hurt that you could have done more for them.  
________________________________________  
As father and daughter stand there, they are oblivious to the crowd of Lewis’ fellow drivers forming, all sharing in the same loss of an exceptional driver, a loving father and husband, and above all, a superb man.  
“I did it for Dad, Vater,” Lily whispers to Nico through her tears, “The race he never finished.”


End file.
